Intake Manor Park The Wicker Norton Freshville Hackenthorpe
Shalesmoor Wombwell Catcliffe Brincliffe Attercliffe Ecclesall
Woodhouse Wybourn
[At this point, Candida starts talking...]
Pitsmoor Badger Wincobank Crookes Walkley Broomhill Oh!
[Candida, quoting from some book]
"I was only about eleven when this happened.
We were living in a big block of flats with a central courtyard.
All the bedroom windows opened onto this court,
and sometimes in the middle of the night,
in that building it sounded like a mass orgy.
I may have only been eleven,
but no-one had to tell me what all that moaning and yelling was about.
I'd lie there mesmerised, listening to the first couple.
Invariably, they'd wake up other couples,
and like some kind of chain reaction,
within minutes the whole building was fucking.
I mean, have you ever heard other people fucking, and really enjoying it?
It's a marvellous sound.
Not like in the movies, but when it's real.
It's such a happy, exciting sound."

The city is a woman
Bigger than any other
Oh, sophisticated lady
Yeah, I wanna be your lover (not your brother, not your mother, yeah)
The sun rose from behind the gasometers at six-thirty a.m.
Crept through the gap in your curtains
And caressed your bare feet poking from beneath the floral sheets.
I watched it flaking bits of varnish from your nails
Trying to work it's way up under the sheets.
Jesus! Even the sun's on heat today;
the whole city getting stiff in the building heat.
I just want to make contact with you
Oh that's all I wanna do
I just want to make contact with you
Oh that's all I wanna do Ow
Now I'm trying hard to meet her but the fares went up at seven
She is somewhere in the city somewhere watching television
Watching people being stupid, doing things she can't believe in
Love won't last 'til next installment
Ten o' clock on Tuesday evening
The world is going on outside, the night is gaping open wide
The wardrobe and the chest of drawers are telling her to go outdoors
He should have been here by this time, he said that he'd be here by nine
That guy is such a prick sometimes, I don't know why you bother, really.
Oh babe oh I'm sorry
But I had to make love to every crack in the pavement and the shop doorways
And the puddles of rain that reflected your face in my eyes.
The day didn't go too well.
Too many chocolates and cigarettes.
I kept thinking of you and almost walking into lamp-posts.
Why's it so hot? (Peace garden!)
The air coming up to the boil; rubbing up against walls and lamp-posts trying to get rid of it.
Old women clack their tongues in the shade of crumbling concrete bus shelters.
Dogs doing it in central res